Red Eye
by MissLizzyJ
Summary: Kitty can serve a mean cup of coffee.


A/N I wrote this story a few years ago for a challenge using the following prompts: Genre-drama/Setting-jail cell/Object-coffee cup. As such, the plot line is somewhat flimsy and best not taken too seriously.

**Red Eye**

Kitty paced the length of the cell in back of the U.S. Marshal's office, fuming.

"'It's just a formality, Kitty,'" she muttered, turning around as she got to the wall. "'He's within his rights, Kitty.'" She got to the opposite wall and turned again. "'I'll move you to Ma Smalley's if we have to lock any men in here, Kitty.'" She tired of going back and forth and climbed on top of the cot, trying unsuccessfully to look out the high, open window. She grunted in disgust and stepped down carefully. Just wait until she got out of there! She'd show him "rights and formality!"

She heard the door to the cell area start to open and resisted the temptation to look up in case it was Matt and not Chester. Nothing could change her love for him, and in her head she understood his reasons for doing what he did, but she was still outraged at his actions and wasn't going to be as quick to forgive this as she would his running out on supper or missing a dance. Metal scraped against metal as a meal tray slid toward her.

"At least you're not letting me starve," she said grudgingly, turning and staring at the bronze star on the broad chest of her jailer. She refused to meet his eyes.

"You know better than that."

Her eyes took in the contents of the tray. It looked like someone at Del Monico's had gone all out. Steak, fried potatoes and gravy, biscuits and apple pie tempted her, along with a steaming cup-

"Are you sure you trust me with coffee, _Marshal_?" She couldn't resist emphasizing the last word.

"Now, honey-" he began.

_Don't you "honey" me!_ she bristled inwardly. "You call all your prisoners 'honey?'"

"Just the pretty red headed ones." That boyish smile squeezed at her heart but she wasn't about to look into those blue eyes until she was ready to be done with being mad.

"This isn't funny, Matt! It was self defense, or as good as, anyway, and you know it!"

"And so does everyone else that was in the Long Branch when it happened. Stop worrying, Kitty. Judge Brookings is going to get the whole story and the charges will be dropped, I promise."

"I know that! Dammit, Matt, I'm not worried about the charges. You...you put me in _jail_." she said softly. She gently nudged the tray back toward him. "I'm not hungry." She was about to break down. Sinking to the cot, she turned her back toward him so he couldn't see the tears welling up.

"Kitty," he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear him. "I told you I'd make it up to you."

"Yeah, well, you'd better!" she responded petulantly, stubbornly refusing to turn around.

"All right," Matt sighed, dropping his head in shame that he had to be a party to this situation. "Let me know if you change your mind about the tray."

""Sure." Kitty bit the word off quickly, dismissing him. He pulled the door shut behind him as he stepped into the office. A man was standing in the front doorway, nervously holding his hat in front of his chest. Matt stopped short and fixed his steely gaze at him.

"What are you doing here, Prentice? I've heard all I'm going to from you. You can tell the rest of your story to the judge when he gets here tomorrow." If looks could kill, the mousy little man would have been stretched out on the jailhouse floor.

"Excuse me, Marshal," the man stammered, hands shaking. "I'd like like to speak to Miss Russell if you don't mind."

"I _do_ mind! You've bothered her enough, now get out of here!" Matt jerked his head toward the door.

"Would you ask her at least? It's important."

"It better be." Matt opened the door again and stuck his head in the cell area. "Kitty, Otis Prentice is here. You don't have to see him if you don't want to."

"I have nothing to say to that vile little worm!" Kitty raised her voice enough for the "worm" to hear her.

"You don't have to say anything." Prentice stood just behind Matt. "Just listen. There are a couple of things I need to say to you." Prentice's voice sounded a little steadier with Matt's attention focused on Kitty.

"Oh, fine!" That irritating little runt was the last person she wanted in her presence, but might as well hear him out. "Make it fast, though, as you can see I'm rather busy at the moment," she added sarcastically.

"I'll be right in the other room," Matt said pointedly, stepping away after giving Prentice another threatening look.

Prentice cleared his throat nervously. "Miss Russell?"

Kitty turned around, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind after all, but she was rendered momentarily speechless at the sight of him. " I didn't do _that_!" She gestured toward his face.

"No, ma'am."

Otis Prentice had changed considerably since the last time she'd seen him. For one, he'd changed out of the coffee-stained cheap Eastern dude clothes into a clean set of cheap Eastern dude clothes. The bigger change, however, was his face. The black eye, swollen nose, split lip and numerous other scratches and bruises couldn't have come from the tepid, weak-as-dishwater cup of coffee she'd flung in his face. Of course, if had been Chester's coffee that had been the handiest thing she'd had to defend herself with when the man had grabbed her and kissed her on the lips, that might have been believable.

"I've come to tell you I'm dropping the charges," Prentice continued.

"You're...what?" This was the last thing Kitty expected to hear from a man who had been willing to admit he'd been beaten by a woman by bringing charges against her. "All right, good."

"And I also wanted to-to apologize." The parts of Prentice's face not already red from his injuries flushed scarlet. "I was out of line, propositioning you that way in the Long Branch. You had every right to defend your honor any way you could."

"Apology accepted," Kitty said stiffly. Inwardly she was seething. If this louse thought she was going to be grateful to him when someone had obviously convinced him to do the right thing, he was mistaken. "Now, get out of Dodge."

The deplorable little man wasted no time in telling Matt to drop the charges before scurrying away, never to be heard from again, presumably. Now that Prentice was no longer a problem, the marshal had to figure out a way to release his prisoner and remain unscathed. He approached the cells cautiously. Kitty had her back turned once more.

"Kitty?"

"Matt," she answered expressionlessly.

"Can I come in?"

"You're the one with the key."

Matt unlocked the cell and stepped in, prepared for anything. "I'm sorry, Kitty."

"I know."

He put a hand on her shoulder and that was all it took to break through her resolve to force him to grovel for forgiveness. She turned, burying her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

"I thought you were mad at me."

"I am." Her voice was muffled against his chest. She held him even tighter for a moment, then looked up and finally met his eyes. "Matt? Are you the one who influenced him to drop those charges?"

"Nope."

"You aren't?" She sounded disappointed.

"Kitty, as much as I would have liked to beat him half to death over this, that wouldn't have solved a thing. No, I think it was probably some of Jake Worth's riders. Right after Prentice forced me to lock you up, about three of them came to me and told me how they saw the whole thing and they weren't about to let you get in trouble over it. I figured they were talking about testifying, but I guess they weren't going to take any chances." Matt held her by the shoulders and brushed her temple with his lips. "Now, I think I promised to make it up to you."

Kitty batted her eyes at him. "You sure did, Marshal. What about that steak dinner out there getting cold?"

"A steak? Is that all the making up you want?" Matt hooked his thumbs over his gun belt and leaned back on his heels.

"No," Kitty smirked, "but it's a good start."

**END**


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